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“You had Niko’s lotus flower tattooed on your chest?” “Not on my chest.” I take his hand in mine and press it on the skin. “My heart.”
“Hey, Niko?” “Hmm?” “Remember when we met that little girl in the park and you asked me what I whispered back to her?” “You said it was a secret,” he grumbles. “I told her I don’t need help because I’m in love with you.”
“Remember when you told me to tell you something in Russian?” “You said I was cute.” “No. I said ‘I can’t live without you,’ and we take that quite literally in Russia.” “Aw, Nikolai.” “Point is, I love the loving fuck out of you, baby.” “I love the loving fuck out of you, too.”
Most of his paintings were of me and my tattoos, but the center painting, the one that I begged Dad to spend over a million pounds from my trust fund on just so I could have it for myself forever, is my favorite. I still have it as my lock screen. It’s the one painting he couldn’t finish all those years ago. The one where I’m standing and he’s leaning against my shoulder. He finally managed to draw his own face, and this time, he’s fucking smiling. Never giving that painting up. Will probably have to put a request in my will to bury it with me so that when I meet Satan, I can tell him all
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He still likes to nag, too, but it’s music to my ears at this point. The day he stops nagging is the day he stops caring.
“Is that a yes?” “Fuck yes, baby. I’ll marry the fuck out of you and make you my husband today if you want.”
“The rest of our lives, huh, baby?” He nods, lips curling into the most gorgeous smile. “The rest of our lives, baby.” “I wouldn’t have it with anyone but you.”
I love this man with everything I have and don’t have. I love him with my sane and insane parts. He’s my lotus flower. My Prince Charming. The love of my life. Mine.
